


How Do You Want To Do This?

by Jyeen



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Dungeon Master!Levi, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Ereriminibang2k19, French Major!Eren, French Major!Levi, Goth!Levi, M/M, Mikasa Ackerman & Levi Are Not Related, Nonbinary Hange Zoë, i know i'm a nerd, let me live
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyeen/pseuds/Jyeen
Summary: Eren and his childhood friends have been playing Dungeons and Dragons together in the Jaegers’ basement since middle school. However, at the start of their sophomore year at Trost University, Armin gets fed up with the antics of their college friends and refuses to DM. Without D&D to entertain him, Eren has to settle for annoying his fellow French language major, the easily irritated and ostentatiously gothic Levi Ackerman. It’s just sheer coincidence that Levi and his friends play D&D too, and Eren enthusiastically accepts an invitation to join their game. He’s surprised to discover a whole new side to his classmate, especially once he realizes that Levi will be rolling the dice of their fates – as the Dungeon Master.





	1. Splitting the Party

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ererievents' Spring Mini Bang 2019!!!!!!!!  
> Hi there! Just a few notes: New chapters will be uploaded once a day this week! Huge shoutout to [maidtea](https://maidtea.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for being my fanart partner-in-crime for this project! I've linked their piece in the notes of chapter 4 to give it some context, and you can also find it right [here!!!!](https://worva.tumblr.com/post/185996635278/drawing-based-on-eren-and-levi)  
> Lastly, just as a point of clarification, I didn't want to deal with the Ackerman & Ackerman issue in this fic (since it's not relevant) so I've changed Mikasa's last name to Hizuru, in honor of her being a descendant of their ruling family.  
> Enjoy!

_The five figures stood perfectly still on the beach. A warm breeze from the enormous sea before them ruffled their hair and clothes as they watched the sun dip below the distant, glimmering horizon, setting the water ablaze with oranges and pinks. None of them had ever witnessed something so vast, yet so tangible. Foaming waves rolled against the sand, playfully beckoning._

_The shortest of the five, a bright-eyed blonde, glanced back in delight at a smiling girl with raven hair. Next to her, a bespectacled, sandy-haired man made no effort to conceal the tears streaking down his cheeks. “It’s real,” he choked out. The ravenette at his side gently took his hand in hers. “The ocean.”_

_Another black-haired girl with fairer skin also stared into the sea, her eyes locked not on the water, but on the last figure who stood ankle-deep in the waves. The spray dampened his clothes and made his chin-length locks cling together. Turquoise eyes glittered with the setting sun’s rays, uncannily reflecting the same effect as the dying light on the endless body of water before him._

_The boy reached out, tanned fingers grasping toward the horizon. “We finally did it.” A small smile stretched across his lips. It had taken so long, and cost more than anyone would ever truly know, but finally…_

_“We’re free.”_

* * *

“I can’t believe it’s finally over!” Historia wails as she scoops all her dice back into their proper containers. “We’ve been playing for so long, I kinda thought it would just keep going forever.”

“Maybe you could start a new game with some people at school!” Frieda suggests, carefully gathering up the sheets for her paladin. She sits on my brother’s lap while he plays with her silky long hair (gross, I know, but unfortunately I’ve pretty much gotten used to their antics at this point.)

Historia pouts. “Nobody at school is cool enough to play D&D. They’re all a bunch of loser fakes that only care about trying to compete with each other. It’s all ‘who has the most expensive shoes’ and ‘who’s dating the cutest boy’.” She makes a retching noise. “No fucking thanks. I like playing with you guys in this shitty basement.”

“Hey,” I cross my arms and pretend to look offended. “I’ll have you know, Zeke and I slaved for months to turn this into a tabletop gaming cave of wonders. Don’t knock The Basement.”

While I am just teasing her, I’m actually really proud of our basement. I was still in middle school when we started playing, and it was a struggle to find a quiet place for all of us to hang out without strangers or family members interrupting. Finally, my older brother and I begged our mom to let us have the basement for our gaming space. She agreed, but only under the condition that we had to fix it up ourselves. Ever since then, our friends have always gathered here to hang out and play D&D. Things got kinda complicated once Zeke and Freida went off to college – which is why we had to recruit Freida’s little sister to play with us. Now that Armin, Mikasa and I are also in college, we can only play together during the summers.

Mikasa snorts next to me. “I don’t recall much ‘slaving’ on your part,” she comments slyly, twirling her pigtail around her finger. “Pretty sure when I came over to help Zeke was painting the walls while you were playing with the minis.”

“Not true,” I huff. “Me _and Armin_ were playing with the minis while Zeke painted.”

Armin ducks behind the painted cardboard he uses as his DM screen. “Don’t involve me in this, I don’t have enough hit points.”

“C’mon, I’m sure they can’t _all_ be uncool,” Frieda continues to coax her sibling. “What about that tall girl that came over last week? The one with the freckles?”

“Ymir?” Historia states it like a question, but I can already see the makings of a condemning blush rising in her squishy little cheeks. I have to physically restrain myself from reaching across the table and squeezing one. I know Historia doesn’t like being treated like the baby of the group (even though she is, by five years), but with her huge royal blue eyes and general chibi-ness, it can be difficult to quash the compulsion.

“You guys were up pretty late,” Frieda says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“We were playing CS:GO.” The blush in Historia’s cheeks darkens. “I don’t know if she’d like D&D though. I’m afraid that if I ask her she’ll think I’m some weird geek.”

“Hate to break it to you, Historia,” Armin peeks out from behind his makeshift shield, “but you lost your privileges as an upright citizen as soon as you walked down those stairs.”

Historia groans into her weathered copy of the _Player’s Handbook_.

“I thought it was a good ending,” Mikasa says to Armin. “A little bittersweet, but I like to think all our characters would keep moving forward and making the island a better place to live.”

“I still can’t believe you let the Captain’s entire squad die,” I grumble.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have split the party, _Eren_ ,” my best friend sasses back at me, rolling his eyes.

“How was I supposed to know the giant was resistant to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage?!”

“Are you three going to start a new campaign with your friends back at school?” My brother finally speaks up, managing to tear himself away from the fascinating task of trying to braid Frieda Reiss’ hair long enough to form a coherent sentence. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t annoy me when Zeke and Frieda had started dating. I like Frieda well enough – our family and the Reiss’ have been neighbors since I was really little, so she was almost like an older sister to me. When we were in high school it was really funny to watch Zeke – gangly, pimple-inflicted, dorky teen that he was – try to work up the courage to ask her out every week. My amusement faded somewhat after a few years when he got into college on academic scholarships and waltzed out of puberty – I will begrudgingly admit – unfairly hot. They’ve been dating for three years now, and while I still get along with both of them pretty well, Zeke’s omnipresent sappiness has me longing for the day when one of them will pop the question and they can move a few states over and have unfairly beautiful babies (or whatever it is that ridiculous couples do).

Armin sighs, biting his lip. “I don’t know yet. They’re all really fun to be around, don’t get me wrong—”

“They just don’t take D&D as seriously as we’re used to,” Mikasa provides.

“Connie and Sasha just wanna mess around and do random stuff,” Armin explains wearily. “Which is fine! It’s just that the three of us are used to following more of a storyline, roleplaying, coming up with backstory… Jean might be okay if he and Eren didn’t argue so much about every little thing,” he adds with an exasperated glare in my direction.

“He picked True Strike as a cantrip!” I fume, instantly prepared to defend my belief in Jean’s profound idiocy. “Why the _ever living fuck_ would you spend and _entire action_ to give yourself advantage on your next attack when you could just attack twice?! He should have just gone with a non-combat spell like Prestidigitation or Message or—”

“Oh, my god, Eren, we know!”

“So yeah,” Armin summarizes. “It wasn’t really working out, so unless someone else wants to DM, we’re probably not going to do it this year.”

“That sucks,” Historia says sympathetically.

We all jolt a little at the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening. “Eren! Zeke!” A voice calls from the kitchen. “You kids need to finish up so you can all get packed! Zeke and Freida have to leave at eight if they want to get to Sina by noon!”

“Yes, mom!” Zeke and I chorus glumly.

Our friends depart soon after, Armin and Mikasa carpooling while Historia and Freida simply walk three houses down to their own residence. All of us (with the exception of Historia, of course) will be leaving town tomorrow to go back to school, so I really should be packing like Zeke. However, the school Armin, Mikasa, and I go to – Trost University – is much closer to home than Sina State, so I won’t have to depart quite so early. Putting off packing up my clothes, shoes, and toiletries until the morning is a sensible choice considering the timing of it all – not like I’m avoiding packing because I’m lazy or anything. Clearly.

In a matter of days, I, Eren Jaeger, nineteen, will begin my sophomore year at Trost U. I’m actually excited. I don’t have as many gen eds this year, and I’m looking forward to seeing Jean, Connie, and Sasha. I can’t help but feel a little let down, though, when I think about not playing another game of D&D until next summer.

Hold on. Maybe … this is a good thing? Without D&D, I’ll have more time on my hands. I could get my homework done sooner, or develop my pitiful social life, or maybe even take on a new and wholesome hobby. Growing bonsai trees, maybe.

Hah. Who am I kidding. I’m not gonna do any of those things.

I crawl into bed and tell myself repeatedly that after a few weeks without playing, I won’t even feel the absence of D&D in my weekly schedule. I won’t miss the thrill of setting off on adventure, or the joy of defeating a powerful foe, or the hilarious inside jokes with my friends. We can just hang out and chat and do stuff that normal friend groups do. Nothing wrong with that.

When I fall asleep, I dream of the sea.


	2. Roll Initiative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall semester begins and Eren is reunited with a rather unusual classmate...

“I can’t believe your club is having a meeting first thing in the morning on the very first day of school,” I say as I follow Armin into Maria Hall. Already the foreign language building is bustling with backpack-laden students and coffee-chugging professors. I stick as close as I can to my short blond friend to be heard above the noise. “Whose bright idea was it to schedule is at 9 AM?”

Armin rolls his eyes without looking at me. “The executive board decided on the date and time last spring. The university scheduled a bunch of activities for freshmen in the evening, and there are Greek Literature classes during the day, so 9 AM it is.” Some random asshole decides to walk between us instead of going around, so we’re forced to separate for a moment before Armin continues. “Erwin thought it would be best to have the first meeting as soon as possible, so we can get dibs on all the new freshmen.”

“Well, far be it from me to question the wisdom of the great Erwin Smith,” I grumble. The president of the Classics Club is a well-known and well-respected figure by students and teachers alike, and as far as I can tell, he’s a pretty cool dude. That being said, Armin and I share a car, so when Armin wakes me up before my alarm so he can get to his precious Classic Club meeting, my sleep-deprived brain automatically starts coming up with dozens of ways to make the language department’s golden boy pay for his crimes against my sleep cycle.

“Look, I’m sorry you had to drag yourself out of bed before lunchtime,” Armin apologizes in a way that makes me think he’s not very apologetic at all. “But it’s important for me to be there on time. I’m the secretary this year, remember?”

That’s right. Damn Armin and his boy scout-esque attitude toward community involvement. Most of the time I’m supportive of him using his little Merit Scholar noodle to gain the advantage, but me and my two currently conscious brain cells are still bitter, so I waspishly retort, “You just wanted to have an excuse to hang out with Erwin.”

“Sure do.”

I whine as I attempt to rub the crusty sleep from my eyes. “I miss those days in high school when I could say something and you’d get all embarrassed and defensive. Now what am I gonna do to counter that devious little brain of yours?”

“Nothing. You’re my slave now. Ah—” He lifts up on his tiptoes, pressing down on my shoulder in an attempt to see over the crowd. “104, that’s the room. When’s your last class?”

I blearily check my phone. “I’m done at 2.”

“I’ll meet you back here then and we can drive home.” He reaches up to ruffle my hair with an evil little grin, making the brown strands stick out like I’d just survived a tornado. Then he gives me a gentle shove. “Now, off to class with you! And play nice with the other kids!”

“Fuck you!” I call as I stumble backward down the hall, aiming a lazy middle finger in his direction. I get a short laugh and a patronizing kiss blown in my direction, which I bat out of the air in disgust before I lose sight of him.

I’ve got a few hours before my only class for the day – thank god – so I grab an unhealthy serving of caffeine from the student center and while away a few hours watching D&D games streamed online. Yeah, I know I said backing off the D&D would probably do me some good, but everyone knows when you’re trying to break a habit, you can’t just quit cold turkey. You’ve got to slowly wean yourself off it over time. An often-ignored voice in the back of my mind (I think it might be my sense of pragmatism?) is questioning whether or not this advice even applies to D&D. As usual, I tell the voice to shut up.

A bit after noon I make my way back to Maria Hall, finally fully sentient thanks to the liquid energy running through my veins. The first lecture of my sophomore year at Trost U is one of the more important ones for my major: Intermediate French. Most people give me this _look_ when I tell them I’m a French Language Major. Like an, _‘are you sure?’_ Alright, so maybe I don’t look like the stuck-up ballet-slipper-wearing girls whose parents own summer homes in New Hampshire that you’d stereotypically expect to find taking French classes. For some reason society has this weird misconception that “French” and “fancy” are interchangeable terms. With those people, I like to stick some earbuds into their heads, play some Sexion d’Assaut, and watch their worldviews crumble across their faces. In any case, I only started taking French classes because my mom wanted me to learn a second language. My dad had been bilingual, so I guess it was just an extra “fuck you” cherry on top that I took French instead of German like him. Funnily enough, I ended up really liking French, and since it’s such a widely spoken language, I get to learn about all sorts of people across the globe that all use the same language to communicate. I’m not sure what I want to do after graduation yet, but Mom assures me that there are always jobs for people who can speak another language.

I walk to class with a spring in my step, congratulating myself for being several minutes early. Glancing down the relatively barren hallway where my destination lies, I spy a familiar figure and grin. “Levi!”

The short goth kid barely acknowledges my greeting as we approach the classroom from opposite ends of the hallway. As usual, Levi wears entirely black – black combat boots, ripped black jeans, and a too-big black shirt that hangs loosely from his petite frame. A few cool looking rings, a plain black choker, black gauges, and a generous amount of eyeliner stand out starkly against his ghostly pale skin, completing the edgy look. The kid sticks out like a sore thumb, but he’s got this glare that makes most people feel they’re being murdered from a distance— _ah_ , there it is. Good to know some people never change.

“Hey, Levi, my man!” I deflect the homicidal gaze with a wide grin and offer my palm for a high five. _“Est-ce vous avez un bon été?“_

“It sucked,” he replied without inflection, ignoring my proffered high five and striding into the classroom. “And it’s ‘aviez’, summer didn’t just happen all at once, it dragged on like some poor asshole taking a difficult shit. Get your tenses right, Jaeger.” Just like last year, he takes a seat at the very back of the room, as far away from the other students as one could possibly get.

He doesn’t react when I noisily drop my backpack into the seat right next to him.

I met Levi exactly one year ago, on the first day of our freshman year. I’ll admit he’s a bit rough around the edges – okay, so maybe he doesn’t have a single friendly bone in his entire munchkin-sized body – but the dude is a French _god_. After being forced to partner with him for a project last year, I quickly realized that I’d found myself a golden ticket to acing every class I had with him. It’s not that he’s helpful, exactly. More like he can’t tolerate mistakes. Therefore, if I show him my work, I can always count on him to point out where I’m wrong and how to fix it – in a highly condescending and offensive manner, but hey, I’m not looking my gift horse in his mouth.

Looking around the room, I see a few unfamiliar faces, as well as the other two French majors in our year, Hitch and Marlowe. Levi may be a bit crass and antisocial, but Hitch Dreyse is a nightmare straight out of a Disney Channel high school drama. My theory is she traded her soul to the devil for this superpower that allows her to make anyone she speaks to fly into a blind rage. The ensuing conflict seems to make her even stronger, so I try to just avoid her at all costs. Marlowe, on the other hand, is kind, virtuous, dedicated, and regrettably, very very bad at French. Even our sweetheart professor, Miss Ral, can’t help but wince at his pronunciation.

The first day, as expected, was mostly spend discussing the syllabus. As Professor Ral lists the different resources we’ll have to purchase and outlines the schedule for this semester, I notice that Levi’s already tuned out, eyes locked on his phone and earbuds in. Professor Ral adores Levi like he’s her own son, so he can basically get away with murder in here. It’s not like he needs to pay attention anyway, since he always seems to know all the answers without trying. Sometimes he’ll even catch Miss Ral’s slip ups. Instead of being embarrassed, she’ll start to glow with pride, like a mama bird watching her chick catch its first worm. I would say there’s some favoritism going on if I didn’t know first-hand how solid Levi’s knowledge of the language is.

Out of a mixture of boredom and curiosity I casually lean over in my seat, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever Levi’s staring at on his phone. The bastard catches me before I can get close, pinning me in place with a glare so deadly that it melts my placating grin into a mild grimace. I like to think that over the last year of my attempts at befriending Levi I may have earned some good favor, but clearly I’ve got a long way to go before our relationship can be considered amiable. Sighing deeply, I resign myself to staring vaguely at the board, taking in every other word Miss Ral says. While he’s not exactly doing it out of the kindness of his heart, Levi’s really helped me with my grades in the past, and I definitely intend to utilize his knowledge in the future. I just wish there was some way for me to repay him, if only to ease my own conscience. I hate feeling like I’m taking advantage of him. Out of the corner of my vision I can barely make out the shifting colors in his eyes, reflected light from whatever video he’s watching on his phone. My view is partially obscured by limp black hair hanging in his face. Glancing away before he can catch me again, I decide at this moment that I’ll dedicate myself to making even a little progress with Levi this semester. Even a simple “hi” at the beginning of class would do wonders for my guilty soul. A high five would be even better, but odds are I’ll be seeing pigs fly before that ever happens.

My first boring day of class winds to a close, and I meet up with Armin so we can drive back to the apartment. My best friend talks energetically about how amazing the Classics Club meeting was the entire way, and about half of his adorable rambling is, as expected, dedicated to Our Lord and Savior Erwin Smith. I kinda start to tune out (hey, I never claimed to have a great attention span _or_ a heart of gold) until Armin says “oh!” as if just remembering something. “I ran into Connie during lunch. He . . . well, he says he’d be willing to DM a campaign this year.”

I startle from my relaxed slump against the passenger side window. “Wait, really?”

He nods slowly, and we both take a moment to silently weigh the idea. Connie’s a great guy, and he’s actually really good at voices, making him an interesting addition to any D&D game. That is, if you can get him to take anything seriously. Sometimes it’s entertaining, but after a while his and Sasha’s antics began to wear on even Armin’s eternally patient psyche. Maybe he’d be a good choice for DMing a one shot, but I can’t imagine him handling the intense preparation needed for a longer campaign.

I revert my gaze to the window, watching the familiar homes and businesses of Trost glide by. “What does everyone else think?”

“Sasha’s all for it, of course. Jean’s still thinking about it. And Mika said no as soon as I brought it up.” He chuckled lightly.

“What about you?”

His fingers pensively tapped at the wheel. “I’ll probably just go with what everyone else ends up deciding. I haven’t gotten to be a player in a while, I really miss it.”

“Yeah, it’s just that you’re the only one of us who’s a half-decent Dungeon Master,” I snort. “We’d have to find someone else smart enough to replace you. Hey!” I smack him playfully on the shoulder. My best friend glances at my smirk before his eyes flicker back to the road. “I’ll bet Erwin the Great and Powerful would run a good game!”

“Holy shit, he _would!_ ” Armin gasps, and I can practically see stars glittering in his enormous cerulean eyes. “He’s basically an expert on ancient Greek and Roman culture, his worldbuilding would be amazing! Too bad he’s probably never played.”

“Yeah,” I concede, “he doesn’t really strike me as the gamer type.”

I hear a chirp from my phone and pull it out of my bag to find a Facebook notification waiting for me. It’s an image of two people I recognize immediately, grinning at the camera as they lay side-by-side on in the grass somewhere on campus. I feel my teeth slightly biting into my bottom lip. “Everything okay over there?” Armin asked distractedly as we pull into the parking lot for our apartment complex.

I close the app. “Nothing important,” I brush off with a smile. “C’mon, I’m hungry, and you said you’d make an actual dinner tonight.”

Armin doesn’t seem to think anything of my behavior. “You’re on potato-peeling duty, young man.”

Between helping Armin perfect his mouthwatering mashed potatoes and watching more D&D streams, I nearly successfully avoid thinking about the picture until I fall asleep in a tangle of blankets and limbs at 2 AM, phone pressed against my chest.

Nearly.


	3. Levitate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Vecna closes a door, Ioun opens a window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally picked this chapter title because it's got "Levi" in it. That's the only reason.  
> Also, if you've never heard Stromae's [Papaoutai](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oiKj0Z_Xnjc), 10/10 would recommend

So, Connie doesn’t get to DM anymore.

The second week of school, we decided to give his one shot a try. Mikasa did end up playing, if only because Sasha and Connie wouldn’t stop talking about it long enough to breathe properly. The party was supposed to sneak into an upper-class dog show and steal a prize-winning pooch – a beagle named Sonny – to return to its rightful owner, a little girl living in the slums. While the concept had seemed heartwarming at the start, we quickly realized that everyone at the dog show was inexplicably armed to the teeth, and Connie had proceeded to gleefully murder our characters by way of bloodthirsty dog-moms who kept battleaxes in their purses.

Goodbye Dungeon Master Connie.

No more attempts at reviving our tabletop entertainment were made after that. Sophomore year crashed over us like a tidal wave, dragging us down under floods of essays, projects, and other academic obligations. I was able to snag a job as a checker at a tiny Asian market just down the street from the apartment, so I don’t have to worry about trying to schedule who gets the car between Armin and me. It isn’t the most exciting job ever – not to mention the skeptical looks I often get from customers as they “sneakily” try to determine exactly what Asian heritage I possess while I scan their items (none to my knowledge, but I’ve eaten enough of Mikasa’s mom’s family recipes to at least know the difference between soba and udon, and Ms. Kiyomi seemed desperate for the help) – but it’s nice to have some spending money, and it helps soak up all my extra free time.

The novelty of the new semester quickly wears off, replaced by the seemingly endless cycle of work and academics. It’s not particularly memorable; one day blends into the next, with only passing blips in the monotony. Nevertheless, I throw myself entirely into my work, desperate to keep my mind occupied. Still, sometimes, when I’m sitting in class as a professor endlessly drones on, or staring blankly at the wall of imported candies directly across from the register at the grocery store, my thoughts start to wander back to the ignored notifications piling up on my phone.

“Why don’t you just unfollow them?” Armin suggests tentatively one evening after hearing the telltale chime.

My fingers fumble on my keyboard. Shit, I was hoping he wouldn’t notice. “It’s not a problem.” Despite my words, I suddenly can’t remember for the life of me what the assignment is that I’m working on.

Thank god, Armin lets the matter drop. I wouldn’t know how to answer him anyway. “How are things with your club?” The deflection is obvious, but I know Armin will never turn down a chance to rave about his adventures in Dork Club.

I am correct. “It’s been going great!” Armin’s grin is so wide I might need sunglasses. “We’re helping fundraise for a convention some of us plan to attend in the spring. Erwin suggested we try a bake sale. I’m making cookies for it on Thursday, so if you see them around the apartment, know that they are _not_ free game. Oh,” he suddenly claps a hand over his mouth, never noticing my pitiful pout, “technically it’s a secret that I’m making the cookies, so could you not tell anyone?”

My eyebrows wrinkle together. “Why the hell is it a secret?”

My friend heaves a long sigh before collapsing next to me on the couch. “You know Hanji Zoe, right?”

Vague memories from last year flash through my mind. Something about spiked lemonade in the teacher’s lounge? “I think I’ve heard of them.”

“They’re the President of the Japanese Club,” Armin explains, “and also one of Erwin’s closest friends. _And_ , their club has a rivalry with ours. Hanji is bound and determined to mess with Erwin in any way possible. They’re a force of pure chaos, Eren. If they find out we’re having a bake sale . . .” He shudders. “There’s no telling what might happen.”

“Are we talking, like, Chaotic Evil, or like—”

Armin laughs and gives me a reprimanding smack on the arm. It’s not enough to wipe the stupid grin off my face. “Probably more of a Chaotic Neutral. They and Erwin seem to get along well. It’s always them and some other guy hanging out after club.”

“You have my word,” I say with all the solemnity I can muster, hand over my heart, “you will hear no gossip of cookies from me.”

Another smack and my grim façade bursts into giggles. “Good,” Armin smiles.

It’s enough to make me forget the darker feelings churning in my stomach, if only for a little while.

* * *

The next morning is just like any other. My alarm goes off at 9 AM. I ignore it. Armin pulls a total Mom move and comes into my room flicking the light switch on and off, yanking my blankets off my body as I pathetically whimper into my sheets. In the end, I manage to brush my teeth, yank on some clothes and snatch a granola bar from the kitchen before my little blonde slave driver manhandles me out the door and into the car.

As soon as I step into Maria Hall, I practically collide with Jean. I’m about to give him a piece of my still hazy mind, but he starts talking before I have the chance. “Hey, Eren! I’m glad I caught you! Can we talk for a sec?”

“Bye Eren!” Armin waves, abandoning me with the horse-faced idiot. Traitor.

I nod and follow Jean into a less crowded hallway where the noise is lower. “So,” Jean starts, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Have you thought any more about trying to start back up D&D?”

I groan and tip my head back so it gently thuds into the concrete wall at my back. “No one wants to DM besides Connie, and we all know what a bad idea that is now. Unless we can find another DM, D&D is a no-go for the foreseeable future. We’ve talked about this already, Jean.”

“I know, I know.”

If anything, the awkward vibes radiating from him intensify. I frown. “What? You got another idea?”

“No, not exactly.” He fiddles with his jacket zipper. “I mean . . . okay, so here’s the thing. You know how I work at the bookstore with Connie and Sasha?”

I snort. “Yeah. Sounds like fun.”

He laughs a bit at that but sobers up quickly. “Yeah. Well, there are some other guys that work there, Annie, Reiner, and Bertholt. Bertholt has DM experience, and they were talking to us about wanting to start a game.”

My eyes widen. “That’s awesome! We should totally—”

“Here’s the thing though,” he continues, not meeting my eye. “They said they want it to just be a coworker thing. So, just me and Connie and Sasha and them.”

“. . . Oh.”

Damn him for getting my hopes up. As much as I try to ignore it, I miss D&D _so fucking much._ We’ve had a few movie nights, gone out a few times, but it’s not as engaging. It hardly feels like we’re handing out when we’re all just staring at the same screen, or when I’m forced to go out and be around a bunch of strangers for hours the just drag on and on. Maybe those things work for some people, but for us, it’s _always_ been D&D. Not playing feels like I cut out a slice of myself.

I try to construct a smile. “You should play with them, then. If you guys want to.”

“I’m sorry,” Jean blurts. “I tried to convince them, but they said it would be too many people.”

“Makes sense,” I nod. “Don’t worry about it, Jean. I hope you guys have fun.”

“Yeah, okay.” He looks like he wants to say more, maybe apologize again, but he just claps me on the shoulder and exits the hallway.

I sigh and allow a moment for the disappointment to wash over me. The moment passes, and when I exit the hallway after Jean, I pretend it’s gone.

As I go about my day at school, whatever emotional gunk remains after my awkward conversation with Jean evolves into reluctant boredom. I’ve had my nose to the grindstone for over a month now, and there’s this restlessness preceding fall break that seems to have invaded every hall and classroom. Even the teachers can be caught glancing longingly out of windows, dreaming of their impending (though temporary) freedom.

Ms. Ral is no exception. After explaining the assignment at the beginning of the class, she plunked herself down in a desk with her phone, distractedly answering questions from students when they were directed her way. She’s pretty young for a professor. I think last year was her first year teaching right after finishing her graduate studies. That probably explains her sweetness – she hasn’t had this job long enough to stop giving a shit about her students. Oftentimes she’ll show us pictures of her and her dog or her weird-looking fiancé. No doubt that’s who she’s messaging now, what with her blushing and giggling every few minutes, then quickly glancing around as if to make sure no one noticed (everyone noticed).

Levi completed the assignment about 20 minutes ago. After giving me a few friendly tips (bitching at me about why I’m an idiot for not getting everything right the first time) he slumped down in his seat with his earbuds in and cranked the volume up to what are most likely damaging levels. I can faintly hear the music from where I sit. It’s actually . . . really catchy. I find myself pausing in my work, straining to make out the vocals, but with little luck. Now that my attention has been diverted, however, I have this itch to find out more. Sliding over in my seat, I pluck one of the earbuds out of Levi’s head and listen in, ignoring his distinct flinch. I’m surprised (but also not) when I realize the words are in French. “This is cool, what is it?”

Before I can listen to more than a second or two, Levi yanks the bud out of my grasp and shoots me a furious glare. I guess now would be a good time to mention that I unfortunately have not been able to make any progress on the Levi front these past few weeks. It’s like the guy is allergic to human interaction. “The fuck, Jaeger! That’s fucking gross, don’t put that in your ear!”

“I just held it close!” I say quickly in defense. Levi, a germophobe? I’ve never noticed it before, but the more I consider the idea, the more sense it makes. Maybe he actually is allergic to humans, in a way? “No need to lose your shit, I was just curious who the band was.”

I expect him to blow me off. To my near shock, he only rolls his eyes and tilts his phone in my direction. “It’s a Belgian artist called Stromae. This is his most popular song.”

My laptop is already open on my desk so I can access the online textbook, so I go ahead and open Spotify on my computer and begin typing in the song’s title. “Papaoutai?”

“It’s a play on words,” Levi says. “He’s saying, ‘Papa, où t’es?’ Please tell me you can at least figure that one out by yourself.”

“’Papa, where are you?’” I translate, eyes wide. This has to be the most Levi’s ever spoken without prompting by the professor. It’s still about French, I guess, but I’m still considering this short conversation a huge success in my befriending-Levi-Ackerman-to-decrease-my-guilt-at-taking-advantage-of-his-knowledge plan.

I’m adding the song to my library when suddenly Levi shifts forward unexpectedly. “You play D&D?”

I freeze up. What the fuck? Is he a mind-reader now? I’ve never mentioned anything about D&D in class before. Maybe he’s just asking randomly? But why? Do I deny it?

This is the most nerve-wracking part about being a nerd. Sometimes revealing your inner fanboy will gain you an instant new friend. It can be lots of fun to read a manga in the cafeteria and have random people approach you to excitedly bond over how Assassination Classroom destroyed you as a person. Then, there’s the _others._ The ones who give you a smile dripping with internal judgement and an awkward “oh”. The ones that make you feel like a freak with one word.

Somehow, Levi doesn’t strike me as the former.

But his dark eyes are boring into the side of my head (I refuse to meet his stare right now), practically daring me to lie to him. Even if I did, he’ll probably see through it no problem. Not to mention Mikasa says I’m a terrible liar. Apparently my ears turn red or something. She’s probably making that part up, but still.

“Y-yeah,” I admit, still avoiding his gaze. “My friends and I play. Well,” I feel a stab of _something_ in my chest, remembering my conversation earlier with Jean. “Played _._ How’d you guess?”

Levi leans away, folding his arms. “You’ve got a D&D playlist saved.”

I squint back at my screen. Ah, right! I would usually play songs from the playlist during our games to set the atmosphere. I hadn’t touched the playlist in weeks, so I’d almost forgotten it was still prominently displayed among my other saved playlists. Oh, shit, some of those are probably embarrassing. I quickly close the app.

“How come you don’t play anymore?”

I’m beginning to think Levi must be sick today. Or maybe replaced by a duplicate. I didn’t even know my grumpy classmate was capable of holding a casual conversation like this. “Um, well, we finished our last campaign over the summer, and things just haven’t really come together since then.” Shit, I might be sweating. This is too much on my nerves.

A preposterous idea enters my mind. Maybe Levi . . .

No way. I shoo the idea back into the sad and desperate corner of my mind from whence it came.

I finally gather the courage to look at Levi’s face. His expression isn’t the disgusted one I was anticipating. It’s something closer to . . . consideration? I’m pretty sure Levi’s never really paid that much attention to me before – as if I were an annoying fly he would have to wave away on occasion, not looking up. Right now, though, I can practically feel myself being examined, like his gaze is an x-ray traveling across my body, pausing on my face. After a moment of this uncomfortable scrutiny, Levi seems to reach some sort of decision. “Erwin Smith, Hanji Zoe, and I are recruiting for our next campaign right now, since Mike and Nanaba ended up transferring this semester.” He returns his attention back to his phone, which I belatedly appreciate since my jaw is most likely on the floor. He offhandedly continues, “I guess having you play with us wouldn’t be terrible.”

What?

I was just invited to play D&D . . . by _Levi?_

The stupid, distractible part of my brain that supplies irrelevant information when I need it the least informs me that Armin will lose his shit as soon as I tell him Erwin Smith plays D&D. I tell my brain to shut up.

Wait, no! There was some relevance to that thought after all!

“I’ve got these two friends,” I find myself saying. “Mikasa Hizuru and Armin Arlert. Could . . . could they play too?”

Levi shrugs. “As long as they’re not little shits, should be fine.”

“Definitely not little shits,” I assure him in a rush. “Out of the three of us, the one most likely to be a little shit is me. I mean!” Fuck, Jaeger, you better backpedal like it’s an Olympic Sport. “None of us! None of us are little shits. We’re all very mature and . . . stuff.”

Mother _fuck_ what the fuck was that?! Did my long-suffering brain cells finally decide to unionize and go on strike? Oh god _,_ Levi’s giving me the same look he gave me that time last year when I accidentally told Professor Ral ‘j’ai mal au cul’ instead of ‘j’ai mal au cou’. Damn, and now I’m feeling embarrassed about _that_ all over again. Nice going, me.

Apparently my unexpected verbal diarrhea is too awkward for Levi to acknowledge, since he just says “We play on Sunday nights. Give your phone numbers to Erwin, he’ll text you and your friends the details and take your character sheets. We start at third level.” Then without another word, he carefully repositions his earbud (Jesus, has he actually been wiping the thing down this whole time? With a _wet wipe?_ Did he have that in his **_backpack?!_** ) and goes back to treating me like I’m a faint scuff on the classroom wall. Whatever talkative demon had been possessing my pint-sized monochromatic study partner seems to have departed from the mortal plane.

Along with any remaining shreds of my dignity.


	4. Surprise Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to tonight's episode of "How Do You Want To Do This", where a bunch of nerdy-ass college students get together and play Dungeons and Dragons . . . and possibly get naked???? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ guess we'll see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, the amazingness that is maidtea's [fabulous art!](https://worva.tumblr.com/post/185996635278/drawing-based-on-eren-and-levi) Go give them love on Tumblr. Go! Shoo! (and then come back and read!)

_“What do you mean we got invited to play D &D with Erwin?!?!”_

“Jesus fucking Christ on a holy cracker, Armin! Can you not see that I am _literally_ in the middle of taking a shower!?”

“This is more important! Plus you left the door unlocked, and we’ve been best friends since we were seven, get over it!”

“ _Fuck_ , you’re letting all the cold air in! You’re exposing me in an indecent state!”

“You literally just texted ‘We’re invited to join Erwin’s D&D campaign’ and then left me hanging for the rest of ‘Roman Oratory in Theory and Practice’! How did you even wind up having a conversation with him?!”

“I didn’t, okay? There’s a guy in my French class, Levi, they’re friends! He’s the one who invited us!”

“Short goth kid?!”

“Yeah!?”

“Oh my god!”

“Yeah!”

“This is crazy!”

“Yeah!”

“Oh my god!!!”

“Get the fuck out!”

“Yeah!”

* * *

“We totally called it,” Armin cheerfully says on Sunday night as he navigates to Erwin’s apartment. Also known as Levi’s apartment. Also also known as Hanji’s apartment. God, I can’t even imagine Levi and Erwin hanging out, much less living together. Throw Hanji into the mix and I’m honestly shocked we haven’t seen anything about a three-way-homicide on the news yet.

I glance back at my blond friend, who is practically bouncing in the driver’s seat. “What did we totally call?”

“Erwin DMing. Didn’t I say he’d be amazing if he did? And now we’re being invited to his campaign. Eren, I think I might be psychic.”

“Turn left,” Mikasa tonelessly instructs from the front passenger’s seat. Yeah, that’s right, I’m riding by myself in the back, feeling like a kid being driven to a playdate by their parents. Apparently I’m a shit navigator? I believe Armin’s exact words when I offered were ‘Thanks, but I’d rather not end up in the parking lot of a Costco in Oklahoma’. Such a kind, sensitive man.

We eventually find our way into a parking spot in front of the kind of unremarkable tan two-story apartment buildings that you could drive past every day of your life and still forget they were there. I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t something so . . . _normal._ The place seems plain, but I guess it’s pretty well-kept. A lady across the street is taking her dog on an evening walk. It’s . . . nice.

“Building 2, number 3,” Armin chants to himself, taking the lead toward our destination. We ascend a short flight of outer stairs and are faced with a white door, the wooden number slightly crooked. Armin raises his hand to knock, but as his fist connects, the door wrings inward slightly, releasing incoherent sounds from within. One of the sounds seems to be a maniacal laughter than sends chills down my spine, but the other I instantly recognize as Levi’s voice, though I’ve never heard him yelling like this.

“Hello?” Armin calls hesitantly. The three of us share a look before Armin swallows his anxiety, encouraged by my and Mikasa’s identical nods, and gingerly pushes open the door for us to enter.

“I swear to god, Hanji,” my classmate’s voice rings out with barely contained emotion, “if you try that one more time, I will be forced to do _things_ to you that even I don’t want to say out loud.”

“Oooh, is that a promise?” the second voice cackles gleefully.

_What the actual hell?_

Armin (who has gone white and then red faster than pouring cherry syrup on a snow cone) trepidatiously peers his head into the main living area of the apartment, only to squeak and duck. Like an idiot, I step forward to get a look, but before the image can even enter my retinas, I’m struck in the face by something made of cloth. I sputter and stumble backward into Mikasa, who’s clearly startled but doesn’t budge a single inch when I collide into her. She grabs my arms to steady me as I blink rapidly and take the fabric into my hands.

Mikasa makes a choked sound. “Is that—"

“Armin! Eren! Mikasa!” Erwin’s cheerful voice calls from the living area. “Glad you could make it! Please, join us!”

I do my best to ignore the (clearly dirty) My Hero Academia underwear that I am now holding and take in the scene before me. The living area looks sensibly decorated and pristine – if you don’t count the undergarments lying in the most unexpected places. An individual with long chestnut-brown hair tumbling over their shoulders is standing on the couch in an attack stance, clothed in nothing but an electric green binder and Naruto boxer-briefs. Across the room stands Levi, sopping wet in only a pair of black boxers, knees bent like he’s ready to dodge. His dark eyes glare daggers at his opponent, who only beams in return. Between them, Erwin sits in a comfortable looking chair, an open book in one hand and a half-finished slice of pizza in the other. It’s like he doesn’t even register the chaos surrounding him, simply smiling widely at us and waving us in, as if _whatever_ _it is_ that is happening right now is completely normal and unalarming.

“Are we— are we in-interrupting something?” Armin stutters, blue eyes the size of saucers. “I-if you want, we can leave—”

“No, no, don’t worry, they do this all the time!” Erwin assures with an unconcerned laugh, putting down his book and coming to meet us in the entryway. “Go ahead, make yourselves at home! Can I get you anything? We’ve got Sprite, I can put on some coffee—”

“Aww, they’re so CUTE!” the brunette shrieks as they leap off the couch, their (lover’s quarrel? Battle to the death? I’m honestly not sure) with Levi completely forgotten as they charge toward their newest victims: us. Before he can react, Armin’s cheeks are being squeezed as they coo at him. “Sophomores! Ughnnn, you’re absolutely _kawaii!_ ”

“Eeuh,” Armin says as best he can in his position. The worried look he shoots me clearly says _‘help’_.

“I’m not done with you, Shitty-Glasses!” Levi growls, stalking up behind the brunette. He looks like he just got out of the shower, not even having the chance to dry his hair yet. Water droplets drip from his black locks, which curl slightly with the humidity.

Before Levi can pounce on his prey (I’ve assumed by now that this individual must be Hanji), Erwin clears his throat. “Maybe you both should go sort yourselves out and save the death threats for later. We have guests.”

Levi’s sharp gaze turns to Erwin, where some sort of silent communication seems to happen for a few moments. Then— “Fine. But they can’t be mad if their character _mysteriously dies_ tonight.” With that, he whips around and disappears into the second door on the right, slamming it behind him.

Hanji seems to still be having fun poking and prodding Armin until Erwin physically peels them off him and gives them a gentle shove. “And pick up your mess. We can’t start playing until you do.”

“Yes, _Dad_ ,” Hanji intones brattishly, but quickly does as he says and vanishes into their own room.

“You all can get set up here,” Erwin gestures to a round coffee table in the middle of the living area, smiling calmly as he gets us drinks. “I was so glad to hear you all could join us! Did you have any trouble finding your way here?”

“We got here fine,” Mikasa replies, though the look on her face tells me she’s calculating an escape route as we speak.

“Thanks for inviting us!” Armin says excitedly, still rubbing his cheeks.

I accept my cup from Erwin. “Do they do that . . . often?”

“Levi and Hanji?” Erwin chuckles as he sips his coffee. “They’re harmless, they just like to get under each other’s skin is all.”

Well, that cleared up absolutely nothing about Levi and Hanji’s relationship.

As we start laying out our character sheets and dice, Hanji explodes from their room (thankfully dressed this time). Thick glasses are perched on their nose, magnifying bright brown eyes. A sloppy ponytail pulls their hair out of their face. Maybe the most noticeable difference, however, is that they’re carrying a jar of dice big enough for me to fit my head in. And it’s _full._

“Wow,” Armin gapes.

“Looks like the dice goblins have been identified,” I smirk. Armin’s box of dice sits on the table, each set neatly organized by color. I have a couple sets myself, but Armin got me some metal dice for my last birthday, so I mostly just use them. Mom always yells at me whenever I roll them on one of her nice tables, saying they’d scratch up the wood. But they just feel so satisfying in my hand, heavy and solid, and when I roll them, the thundering barrage of sound makes me feel how I imagine Thor feels when he swings Mjolnir. It’s pretty addicting.

Mikasa isn’t picky about her dice. She doesn’t even have any complete sets, just a few mismatched ones that ‘get the job done’, she’d say with a shrug.

Levi finally joins us, clad in all black (quelle surprise). I am a bit confused, however, when he begins setting up a DM screen around his area. “What’s that for?”

There’s that look again. The _how-can-you-be-actually-this-stupid_ look. “Keep you from seeing my notes. Obviously.”

Armin frowns. “Is your character a secret or something?”

A confused blink. “What?”

“Do you not use a screen when you DM?” Erwin glances at Armin in puzzlement.

“Wait. Wait!” I lean across the table toward Levi, my mind racing. “ _You’re_ the DM?!”

Levi crosses his arms and speaks slowly and emphatically. “ _Yes,_ I am the Dungeon Master of this campaign. Got a problem with that, Jaeger?”

“You said it was Erwin!” Armin accuses me while my mouth hangs limply open. “Erwin’s the one we sent our character sheets to.”

“That’s what—I mean, I assumed—”

“Why are you acting like this is a surprise?” Levi huffs.

“Because you didn’t mention it!”

“Oops,” he says in monotone. “And I had you send all the stuff through Erwin because I don’t like giving my phone number out to just any schmuck in Maria Hall. Now, can we play? Or would you like to bitch and whine some more?”

I can tell by the tenseness in Mikasa’s shoulders that she’s about .026 seconds away from grabbing me under one arm and Armin under the other and sprinting us back to the car. Hanji, on the other hand, seems completely oblivious to the strained atmosphere. “Yes yes yes! Let’s play now!”

A moment passes. Then, like detuning a guitar string, the tension eases a tiny bit and we all settle into our seats. When Levi begins speaking, I quickly forget about the incident and relax into the lull of his – unexpectedly melodious – voice.

“The year is 854. The nation of Marley has been at war with the Eldian Empire for countless generations, but for most of Marley’s citizens, the war is a distant thought. After reclaiming the continent from Eldian rule a hundred years ago, the people have been able to develop the land, and invest more resources into the invention of new technology. However, a small population of Eldian descendants remaining in Marley, forced to live as second-class citizens in internment zones, are growing restless . . . .”

I listen with rapt attention, already spellbound by the story Levi is weaving. Next to me Erwin and Armin are taking notes feverishly, but I can’t seem to do any more than sit there and soak in the deep lilt of Levi’s speech, richer and more intentional that I’ve ever heard it. It’s almost . . . musical, listening to him tell his story. Each detail is carefully crafted with a sincerity and passion that I would never have guessed that Short, Irritable and Goth possessed. It’s hypnotizing.

Once we get into the gameplay itself, Levi’s strange new charm diminishes a little, leaving plenty of holes for his more brusque personality to shine through. Somehow, though, his sarcasm seems warmer than I’ve observed it before, and he hurls barbs with a twinkle of good humor in his eye. It’s still definitely Levi, but . . . somehow totally different at the same time. Every once in a while, I’ll catch myself tuning out the rest of the party to simply watch this confusing, fascinating creature as he listens to Hanji’s character chatter excitedly to a barkeeper. Is it just the environment of playing D&D, being master of an entire fantasy world, that makes him like this? Or maybe this is the real Levi, and I’m only now seeing it?

Despite Armin’s initial hesitance upon discovering that Erwin is not, in fact, the DM here, his wizard and Erwin’s warlock soon became a dynamic duo. No doubt his ‘kawaii’ little fanboy heart is scrambling like a hamster in a wheel right now. Even Mikasa, who had rolled a monk, is clearly enjoying herself. Hanji is lots of fun to play with, as there’s never a boring moment with their batshit-crazy druid always leading the charge. I’m a little quieter than usual. Usually I tend to play barbarians and fighters, but I’ve decided to try going rogue for this adventure and I’m still getting the hang of it. Not to mention I might be a little . . . distracted. Fuck, it’s going to be so weird seeing Levi back in class tomorrow, isn’t it? Will he be back to treating me like a mentally deficient middle schooler that he’s being payed to babysit, or will things have changed?

Four hours and three pizzas later, Levi brings the game to a stopping point. When Hanji begins to whine in protest, Erwin shoots us an apologetic look, stating that it’s past Hanji’s bedtime and he’d better put them to bed or they’ll be cranky tomorrow. Bypassing the question of whether or not Erwin and Hanji are legitimately parent and child (I’m really starting to question it now . . . Oh god! Then if Levi and Hanji are a thing, does that make Erwin Levi’s _potential_ _future father-in-law?_ What the fuck is up with this apartment?!) we gather our things, chatting about everything that happened in the game. The three of us are about to leave when I catch Levi on his way back to his room.

“Hey,” I say, causing him to pause and glance back at me. Armin and Mikasa are waiting for me in the doorway. What was I going to say to him again? When I’d caught his attention, I had already planned it out. Why can’t I remember all of a sudden?

Hmmm.

Levi has nice eyes.

I think this is the first time I’ve seen him without full makeup.

Closer, too.

“Thanks,” I finally remember with a grin. “Thanks for inviting us. It was lots of fun! Same time next week?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. He just looks at my face for a few seconds, nods, and walks off.

No rolled eyes? No beleaguered sighing? No ‘Jesus, Jaeger, were you dropped as an infant?’ Now that’s what I call progress!

The car ride home is filled with energetic discussion about the game. Armin wonders aloud about the backstory for Erwin’s character, and starts spouting theories about the strategy behind Eldia’s most recent attack on our country of Marley. Mikasa is planning her next steps in maxing out her monk. I’m mostly content to listen to them talking in the front seat until my phone buzzes in my pocket and suddenly my stomach sinks. I know Armin won’t hesitate to smack the phone out of my hand if he finds out who it is – and I’m pretty sure there’s only one person who would text me this late out of the blue – but with him distracted, I pull the device out of my pocket and stealthily check my messages.

 **_11:16 PM_ ** _I’ve got some downtime tomorrow. Wanna grab coffee? I haven’t seen you in a while._

I close my eyes, blocking out the brightness of the screen that’s stabbing at my eyes. Shit, this is a bad idea.

 **_11:17 PM_ ** _I just want to talk. You owe me at least that much._

Why does she have to do this?

I bite my lip, but I already know what my answer will be. So does she. She knew before she even texted.

 **_11:20 PM_ ** _ok_

* * *

...

...

...

...

...

... 

Eren has nice eyes.


	5. Critical Miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No D&D in this one (sorry!), and questions are answered with even more questions?? What is this outrage????  
> feat. Lord of the Rings because idk it just happened

“Une ananas.”

“. . . Pineapple. Ummm . . . le fromage.”

“Cheese. L’addition.”

“Shit. Uh . . . .” I try not to glance down at my textbook. I really do. My eye catches on the word and then darts away, as if the single brief look won’t really count, just like flinching away from a hot surface to avoid a burn. “The check?”

The force of Levi’s glare could probably knock small birds out of the air. “You looked at it, didn’t you.”

“I’ll get it next time,” I shrug off. “La carte.”

I’m not really sure what I was expecting when I walked into Intermediate French today. Not that I thought Levi might run up to me and give me a hug or anything like that, but maybe _some_ show of familiarity, or at least something to acknowledge the four hours I’d spent hanging out in his apartment yesterday. So I’m not sure if I was disappointed or relieved when I took my seat next to his at the beginning of class only to be completely ignored while Levi impassively stared at his phone, earbuds in. Even after class started, the only conversation we’ve had is helping each other review vocabulary words as per Ms. Ral’s directions. It’s like nothing has changed since last Monday. I’m not sure how I feel about that, and honestly, I don’t have the emotional energy to try and figure it out. Not today, anyway.

“The menu,” Levi replies swiftly, not even looking at the textbook for another term to quiz me on. “L’entrée.”

“Appetizer. Trying to trip me up?” I joke halfheartedly. My partner’s face doesn’t move a millimeter. Damn, this is awkward. Is this awkward? It feels awkward to me. With Levi, it’s impossible to tell. Whatever, Jaeger, just move on. I sigh and fix my eyes on the book laying open on my desk, too uncomfortable to continue watching him. “La boyt.”

“ _Boite,”_ Levi corrects sternly. “Can.”

I wait for him to give me another term to define, but silence greets my ears as I keep my head down. “Next?”

An exasperated snort. “Well, it kind of defeats the purpose if you’re gonna stare at the list like that, doesn’t it?”

He’s right. Obviously. Knowing that doesn’t stop the anger from flashing through my veins at his tone, like being forced to interact with me even this small amount is a monumental inconvenience for him. Haven’t I been trying, _specifically focusing_ on being nice to him this whole time? What is this bastard’s _problem_? I jerk my head back up to return his glare with one of my own. But while his eyes pierce like a scalpel, sterile and precise, mine are like acid, burning anything they come into contact with.

The last time I felt like this was . . . was . . . .

Gradually, all the fight drains out of me, replaced by a wave of exhaustion. There’s a sort of buzzing in my head now, not painful yet, but enough to be bothersome. I run my hands through my hair and try to collect myself.

Levi looks surprised. It’s a weird look on him. His eyes are only slightly bigger than normal, but the difference is noticeable enough that it’s kind of freaking me out.

“You’re . . . off today.”

Holy shit. Did Levi just make an observation about my wellbeing, implying that he pays enough attention to me to have a baseline opinion of my personality? In Levi-speak, he might as well have asked me if I was ‘doing okay’ and if I ‘wanted to talk about it’! That’s like, friendship second base! Possibly third? Is there a base system for making friends? God, this whole train of thought is sad.

I try to muster up a smile, but my ears are burning with embarrassment. Not many people who knew the ‘Old Eren’ are still talking to me. There’s a reason for that. “Sorry. You’re right, I’m having an off day. It’s something I’m . . . working on, I guess. Can we just pretend nothing happened? Please?”

It’s kind of adorable the way little wrinkles form in Levi’s brow. “Fine. For a second there you just looked like you wanted to brain me with your textbook. It reminded me of Hanji when I threw out their bug collection.”

The image that comes to mind makes me chuckle, and Levi appears almost . . . pleased. “Okay, back to work. Les pâtes.”

“Pasta,” I say with confidence. “How about . . . le copain/la copine?”

“The textbook says ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’, but really it can be used for any friend in general,” Levi explains.

“Hmmm.” Before Levi can continue quizzing me, another thought comes to mind. “Um, Levi? If you don’t mind me asking, what was going on between you and Hanji when we walked in last night?”

The dude cocks his head at me for a moment, debating whether my question is worth derailing our practice for. When he leans back in his chair with a sigh and begins chewing contemplatively on his pierced lower lip, I mentally high-five myself. “They were getting my bed dirty.”

Oh. Fuck. I did not need to know that. Now I’m imagining it, dear Jesus—

“Shit, not that way!” Levi exclaims upon seeing my reaction. He looks positively nauseous. “Oh my _god_ , get your mind out of the gutter, Jaeger. I was taking a shower and when I came back they were curled up in my bed, practically naked. You’d be scared too if you knew where they’ve been.” In his irritation he begins fiddling with the spiral in his right ear, probably not even realizing what he’s doing. A bad habit, maybe? I’ve never noticed it until now, with Levi usually sitting to my right. “I’d sooner let an urchin off the street sleep in my bed than Hanji. I might have to _burn_ those sheets. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re contaminated with the Ebola virus now.”

“Um . . . why were they sleeping in your bed then, if they know you don’t like it?”

Levi rolls his eyes. “They say it’s more comfortable than theirs. Which isn’t surprising, Hanji never makes their bed so who knows what’s buried in there. Plus, they get a sadistic pleasure out of pissing me off.”

“And, the underwear?” I prompt warily.

To my amusement, the memory causes Levi to physically shudder. “It’s their weapon of choice when it comes to keeping me from murdering them. If Hanji is a carrier for Ebola, their underwear’s got to be ridden with Bubonic Plague.”

Levi appears so righteously disgusted that I can’t help but burst out laughing, drawing the attention of our classmates. Ms. Ral shoots us a reprimanding look, but I can see the faint makings up a smile just under the surface. Levi openly pouts – _pouts!_ – as I attempt to cover up my cackling, trying to resume our studying with only mild success. “Okay, the next one’s really hard. La salade.”

 _“Va te faire enculer,”_ Levi scowls, and I laugh even harder. The corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly upwards.

For the rest of the class, I forget to worry about what’s going to happen tonight.

* * *

At 3:30, that worry returns with the force of an avalanche.

“What do you mean, you took the car?” I say into the phone as calmly as I can manage.

“We decided to extend the bake sale for another day,” Armin explains. “We still had food left over from Friday, and we didn’t quite meet the goal Erwin was aiming for, so I came back to campus to help. Did you need the car for something? You don’t really ever go anywhere, so I figured it was okay.” His words take on a note of concern. “Did something happen? Do you need me to come pick you up?”

Shit. I can’t tell Armin who I’m meeting with, he’ll confiscate my phone and then lecture me like I’m a ten-year-old trying to sneak a mouthful of beer. He might even try to ground me. I wrack my brains for a convincing excuse for why I need to be back on campus after only leaving a little over an hour ago. He certainly doesn’t need to know that I’ve been so nervous and self-conscious that I’ve been trying on half my closet and failing to wrangle my hair into submission since then.

C’mon, Jaeger, think!

“No, I’m fine,” I hear come out of my stupid, idiotic, completely useless mouth. “It’s not important.”

“Are you sure? You sound tense.”

“Nah, I’m good.” God, I suck at lying. If this were D&D, my modifier would be something ridiculous, like a negative six. (For those of you who don’t play, no worries – that’s not even a THING in D&D). I pray for a high roll on my deception check. “Good luck at the bake sale!”

“Alright.” I feel some of the tension melt out of my shoulders. “Thanks, Eren. I’ll be back around five thirty.”

“See you then,” I say in reply, holding my breath until I hear the telltale _click_ of the phone call disconnecting. I peer apprehensively at the screen. 3:46 PM. I said I’d meet her at four.

I bolt out the door.

There’s a bus stop about a block from our apartment where I sit and wait desperately for a bus to arrive. I message that I’m running a bit late but get no response. After five minutes of bouncing my knee until I can barely feel it anymore, I violently curse Trost’s shitty public transit system and start running.

Armin and I live a little under four miles from school, an easy commute by car. On foot, however, it’s a respectable jog. At the near-sprinting pace I’m taking it, it’s only a matter of minutes before I’m a sweaty mess. Passersby stare as I dash past, breathing hard and trying not to trip in my Keds, which keep coming untied. So much for trying to look put-together. I check my phone again as I run. 4:02. Fuck. I’m not even halfway there.

It’s 4:25 when I finally burst into Rose Café, breathing hard and my hair sticking to my forehead and the back of my neck. I get a few curious looks from students near the entrance, but I don’t pay them any attention as I scan over their heads for a hint of pale blonde. The café is packed with students unwinding with their friends after a day of classes or taking a break from their studying in the library next door. Faint jazz music combines with the hum of conversation to create a pleasant blanket of sound, occasionally accented by a barista calling out someone’s order.

She’s not here.

I lean heavily against the wall. Had I been stood up? No, that’s not like her. She most likely waited for a few minutes before deciding I was wasting her time. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve let her down. With a pang I realize she must expect that from me now. There are only so many chances at reconciliation she’s willing to give, and I might have just reached the limit.

Two minutes and a venti-sized helping of self-loathing later, I’m no longer panting, but my throat is raw from the exertion and I shuffle into the line for drinks. The cold blast of air conditioning against my sweat-slick skin makes me shiver and I rub my arms.

“Welcome to Rose Café, what can I get— oh, hey there, Eren!” My head snaps forward to see Marlowe smiling at me, stupid haircut and all. “Nice seeing you outside of class!”

“Yeah, you too,” I reply automatically, caught off guard. I quickly take in his nametag and deep red apron embroidered with a thorny rose. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Hitch too,” Marlowe nods to his right and I spot the devil herself sliding a drink to a customer, her short hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail with the shorter strands falling out to frame her face. She catches my eye and blows me an obnoxious kiss. I dodge. Not today, Satan.

“That’s cool.” I return Marlowe’s smile because as hopeless as he is, Marlowe is an innocent child who deserves the world and anyone who treats him otherwise is pure evil. Hence Hitch. “I think I’ll have an iced tea. One pump of sweet.”

I’m handing over my card when a thought strikes me. “Was there a blonde girl in here a little bit ago? Short hair, taller than Mount Everest?”

“Oh, _her?_ ” Hitch literally slides across the counter, propping her chin on her elbows. Trying to exclude this girl from a conversation is like trying to unstick tape from your fingers with only one hand. “Wait, _you_ know Cate-Blanchett-on-Stilts?”

I choke on my own tongue. “Erm, yeah, that’d be her.”

“Oh my _god_. Don’t tell me _you_ were the one she was waiting for?” I give her a stiff nod. “Oh, _shit._ She was so pissed when she left! When she came over I thought she was going to literally bite my head off! She was like, _five seconds_ from full-on Dark Galadriel mode. You know, ‘ _All shall love me and despair’_?” She grasps her heart and flops lifelessly against the counter, only to bounce up again in a moment of realization. “Hold up. Did you _stand up_ Cate-Blanchett-on-Stilts? Is she your _girlfriend?_ She’s like, ten feet taller than you! Do you have a thing for tall girls, then? How—”

“Did she say anything when she came over here?” I ask Marlowe, blatantly ignoring Hitch.

His smile twists uncomfortably. “Not much.”

“She said something to me right before she left,” Hitch hums, a wicked gleam in her eye. “She said, ‘never settle for a second choice’, and then she walked out.”

The words hit me like an unwanted triple shot of guilt in my self-loathing latte. _Second choice._ Like I hadn’t known that already. She’s just never said it to my face before. Well. I guess she still hasn’t.

“Dude.” I’m nudged from behind by a baggy-eyed student who looks like she’s ready to rip the balls off the next person to stand between her and caffeine. “You’re holding up the line.”

I silently shuffle to the side and the girl starts rattling off what sounds more like a chemical equation than an order. A minute later, Hitch catches my eye and hands over my drink with a smirk. “Grande Iced Tea for Elijah Wood!”

I snatch it from her hands. “Fuck off, Andy Serkis.”

“Ugh!” she recoils. “That one doesn’t even make sense! His character is animated! Wait! Asshole, don’t you walk away from me!”

I’m already out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so curious to see if you guys have any theories after reading this chapter! Leave me a comment, I love talking to you guys about writing, D&D, or SNK. Come back tomorrow and maybe you'll get a few more big hints to see whether your guesses were on track! Thanks so much to those who have been following along on this adventure, you guys make my day! :)


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